


Treat Him Nice

by kissoffools



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Feelings Realization, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, M/M, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissoffools/pseuds/kissoffools
Summary: Nothing means everything to me. Except sex - and money.Whizzer meets a man at a bar, and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Treat Him Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts).



It isn’t like Whizzer goes looking for a sugar daddy. 

There’s a difference, in his mind, between playing around and being a whore. It’s one thing to go out and fool around, flirt with handsome men and take them to bed and make them curse when they come - and it’s another thing to _charge_ them for it. Whizzer isn’t that kind of guy. He just likes to have his fun.

That is… until Marvin.

***

They meet at Rawhide.

It’s an unpretentious gay bar in a neighborhood that isn’t all gay - at least, not yet it isn’t. There are pinball machines along one wall and a motorcycle hanging from the ceiling, and the drinks are cheap. Whizzer likes hanging out there because it’s unexpected. It’s not as extreme as Mineshaft or as dingy as Milano’s, and it isn’t a sea of teenagers wanting to be seen like at Studio 54. And plus, it offers a certain level of anonymity. This neighborhood isn’t all gay, isn’t known to homophobes and assholes, so it feels safer to visit. Whizzer has enough problems in his life - he doesn’t feel like worrying about having rocks thrown at him when he’s trying to go get his rocks off. 

So Rawhide it is. 

And when his gaze lands on the disheveled, tired, average-looking man drinking alone at the bar, he’s thankful for his choice. 

The wedding ring on the stranger's left hand doesn’t even stop Whizzer from approaching. Because if that wedding ring mattered, this very average man wouldn’t be here. So who’s Whizzer to worry about some wife at home if her husband isn’t? 

“Buy you a drink?”

The disheveled man shifts in his seat, looking over his shoulder at Whizzer standing behind him. He sees the man’s eyes slide up and down his torso, and Whizzer straightens just a little. 

“Whiskey. Please,” the man says. 

A little smile tugs at Whizzer’s lips as he leans over the bar to order two old fashioneds. _He’s polite,_ Whizzer thinks. Though not polite enough not to eye his ass - Whizzer can feel the man’s eyes on his backside, and he’s thankful for the time he put in at the gym that morning. 

The bartender sets down their drinks, and Whizzer picks his up to tip towards the stranger. 

“Bottoms up,” he says with a smirk, and he thinks he might melt under the man’s firm gaze. For someone disheveled, tired, and remarkably average, he sure knows how to keep a guy’s attention. 

He also knows how to suck dick, Whizzer learns in about fifteen minutes. 

“ _Fuck_ ”, he hisses, his head tipping back, just barely missing the stall wall as the man takes him deep into his throat. 

The man is enthusiastic, moaning around him as he sucks him. Whizzer is pretty sure anyone who steps foot in the bathroom can hear them, will know exactly what’s going on, but he couldn’t care less about that at this moment. All he cares about is the warm heat of the other man’s mouth and the way his tongue swirls around him.

When he comes, the man doesn’t lose a drop.

He’s still breathing heavily by the time he’s tucking himself back in his pants, and the other man stands, looking almost too pleased for his own good. Whizzer reaches for him, trying to undo his belt buckle, but the man shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says, and Whizzer raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“You’re telling me that you just gave me fantastic head, and you _don’t_ want to get off yourself?” 

The man smirks. “I got what I came here for - more than that, honestly. You just gave me jack-off fodder for the whole week.”

Whizzer can’t help but breathe out a laugh, shaking his head as they exit the stall. “If you say so.” 

Whizzer doesn’t think he’ll see the man again. After all, he doesn’t know his name, where he lives, or anything identifying about him except that he has no fashion sense and deep throats like a champ. Well, and that he has a wife waiting for him at home. Not exactly repeat customer material.

But as the man steps past him, he slides a fifty into Whizzer’s back pocket. Easily. Like he’s practiced that move a hundred times, with a hundred different men, in a hundred different washrooms after a hundred different fucks. 

“Marvin,” the man says. “I’m here on Thursdays. For the record.” 

“Is that a pickup line?” Whizzer asks.

Marvin takes a few steps backwards, towards the bathroom door. “Just sharing some information. In case you want more where that came from.” 

“What, the money or the orgasm?”

Marvin shrugs. “Both.” 

He leaves Whizzer alone in the bathroom, a little surprised. This isn’t his style. Sure, he meets up with strangers at bars and hooks up in bathrooms, like every gay man in New York City. That’s basically a rite of passage. But he’s never fucked for money before - always thought he was a little above that. 

Whizzer turns up at Rawhide again next Thursday, his eyes finding Marvin at the bar immediately.

Guess he’s not above it, after all.

***

They hook up in the bathroom for two more weeks at Rawhide, fifty dollars stuffed in Whizzer’s pocket each time, before Marvin suggests getting a hotel room.

It certainly isn’t fancy. It’s utilitarian, more suited for business travelers than tourists - hell, it’s three minutes from the goddamn airport. But it means they don’t have to rush, and they won’t get caught. Meaning Marvin can fuck Whizzer for real, ass up and face down on the bed, fingers gripping his hips so hard they’re sure to leave bruises. They make a mess of the sheets and likely wake the neighbors, but god, is it worth it. 

This time, as they’re getting dressed, Marvin drops two hundred on the dresser. 

Whizzer raises his eyebrows. “You gave me a raise.” 

“You let me inside you,” Marvin says with a shrug. “Figured that’s worth more. Complaining?” 

“No,” Whizzer says, picking up the bills and counting them idly. He hears Marvin snort, and he raises his eyebrows. “What?” 

Marvin’s expression is amused. “No, nothing,” he says quickly. Whizzer tosses him a pointed look. “I never met anyone I was horny enough for to become a repeat customer, is all.” 

“Oh yeah?” Whizzer asked, a grin unfurling over his lips. “Do you spend all week thinking about the next time you’ll get to fuck me?” 

“Maybe.” Marvin’s cheeks turn pink, and god, that delights Whizzer. 

Whizzer reaches for him, dropping the money on the bed as he reaches up to kiss him again, deep and dirty. “Keep coming back and I’ll give you a discount. Buy eight fucks and get one for free.”

Marvin laughs loudly, and Whizzer feels his chest warm. Turns out he really likes making Marvin laugh. Are you supposed to take pleasure in making your john laugh?

Marvin finishes tying his tie as Whizzer releases him. “Same time, same place next week?” Marvin asks.

Something inside Whizzer’s stomach twinges. “I’ll be here.”

***

Calling Marvin at home would be dangerous. Whizzer knows this. There’s a wife at home, and from the glimpse Whizzer once caught at the inside of a wallet, a son, too. A whole goddamn happy family. Whizzer knows that, technically speaking, what they’re doing is wrong. A married man shouldn’t be paying another man for bathroom blowjobs and hotel hookups. He just doesn’t like the reminder… and wouldn’t want to do anything to make them stop.

Marvin calling _him_ at home, however, is something Whizzer never expected to happen.

Which is why he almost falls out of his chair when he answers his phone and hears Marvin’s voice. 

“What are you doing?” Whizzer whispers, as if the volume of his own voice could give them away. 

“I got your number out of the phone book. I’m sorry I’m calling - I can’t meet you tonight.” 

“What?” 

Marvin’s voice is low. “My wife is at her parents’, and my son was supposed to be at a sleepover. But he’s sick. I can’t leave.” 

“Oh,” Whizzer says, a little surprised at how disappointed he feels. “What, has he got the bubonic plague or anything? You can’t use a little NyQuil and knock him out for a couple hours and sneak out?” 

“Oh my god, you should never become a parent.” But he hears amusement in Marvin’s voice, and Whizzer can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to turn up there and wait for me if I wasn’t showing up at all. Can we do next week? I’ll pay you double to make up for it.” 

“It’s fine,” Whizzer says.

“Unless -”

Whizzer feels himself perk up. “Unless?” 

“Is it crazy to ask you to come here?” 

Whizzer’s eyebrows shoot all the way up. “You want me to come to your home? Where your wife and child live?” 

“That’s what homes are, yes,” Marvin says, and Whizzer can hear the amusement in his voice. Damn this man. “My wife’s not here, and while I can’t leave Jason in the house alone, I can certainly have a buddy over while he’s asleep upstairs.” 

“A buddy.”

“Sure, don’t you suck all your buddies’ dicks?” 

“Oh my god.” Whizzer shakes his head. “You’re insane.” 

“Do you want an orgasm or not?” 

He sighs. He’s pretty sure he’s going to regret this, but… “Fine. Give me the address, and I’ll be there in an hour.”

He can hear Marvin’s grin on the other end of the line. “Perfect.”

***

Whizzer has never felt more like a whore than when he’s being let in the side door of Marvin’s marital home and asked to be quiet.

“Shh,” Marvin urges him as he steps back and lets Whizzer into his kitchen. “Jason’s upstairs.” 

Hell, until tonight, Whizzer hadn’t even known the kid was named Jason. It’s a night of firsts, apparently.

He glances around the kitchen, taking in the avocado-green fridge and beige cupboards and ruffled valance over the window above the sink. A decorative rooster on the counter, a napkin holder atop the fridge, a small table for three. It’s all so goddamn ordinary.

Whizzer’s stomach twists a little. This may have been a mistake.

“Can you wait, like, ten minutes?” Marvin asks, nodding towards a dark room just off the kitchen, which Whizzer assumes is either a den or a study - most families have those things, he thinks. His childless, bachelor ass wouldn’t know for sure. “I have to bring Jason a glass of water and read him a story.” 

Whizzer shifts awkwardly. “Uh, sure.” 

Marvin seems to sense the tension, because he steps forward and runs his hands over Whizzer’s arms. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long,” he reassures him, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “And then I’ll come back down and read _you_ a story.” 

The kiss feels good and Whizzer can’t help but tip his head back, inviting more. “That’s a terrible metaphor.” 

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.” Marvin’s lips slide over Whizzer’s neck.

“Dad?” 

Whizzer has never felt a man move away from him fast enough. 

“Hey, buddy,” Marvin says, clearing his throat as he turns towards the small child with the mop of brown hair looking up at them from the doorway. “Thirsty? I was just bringing up some water for you.” 

Marvin moves towards the sink to fill a plastic cup from the tap, but the boy’s eyes stay on Whizzer. Whizzer finds himself offering the kid a little wave, which seems incredibly dumb as soon as he’s done it. _How does one interact with the child of the man one is fucking behind his mother’s back?_

“Who’s he?” Jason asks.

Whizzer can see Marvin’s smile waver. “He’s a friend of mine. He came by to visit.”

“Hi,” Whizzer says, figuring that he’s now allowed to speak. “I’m Whizzer.” 

Jason seems to consider this for a moment, before nodding. “I’m Jason. Do you want to read a story with us before I go to bed?” 

“Uh - me?” he asks in surprise, his eyes finding Marvin’s. “Uh…” 

Marvin pauses for a moment, and then shrugs. “If you want to.” 

_This seems like a fairly terrible idea_ , Whizzer thinks. “Sure.” 

And the next thing he knows, he’s settling down on one side of a small twin bed as Marvin tucks Jason in and picks up a book called _Ordinary Jack_.

What a strange, strange reality he’s entered.

Whizzer doesn’t listen to much of the book. It has something to do with a child and a dog and some crazy scheme or another, but he’s not paying much attention. Instead, he’s focused on the feeling of it all. Of the way Marvin’s voice sounds, confident and kind, reading the words out loud to his son. The way Jason laughs, twisting around in his sheets when something particularly amuses him. The dim lights in the room and the baseball posters on the wall. There’s a warmness to it all, a comfort. Something Whizzer can’t quite place but also knows he’d never forget. 

They’re only in Jason’s room for twenty minutes, but it feels like ages. And, much to Whizzer’s surprise, he doesn’t want it to end.

After wishing Jason goodnight, Whizzer steps out into the hallway. Marvin follows a moment later, easing the door shut quietly. 

“Hey,” Marvin whispers, looking up at Whizzer. He reaches out and links their hands together. “Thank you for being so cool about that. You didn’t have to be.” 

Whizzer’s mouth feels dry. His head is spinning a little as he tries to process the way he’s feeling. “Uh, yeah. No problem.” 

Marvin leans in to brush a kiss over his lips, and Whizzer feels his stomach flip.

 _Shit._

He knows that feeling. It’s not one he’s felt in a long time - he thought he was done with the attachments, the longing, the need for someone beyond the physical. He’s worked very hard to avoid putting himself in situations where it would be an issue. He knows that feeling, and it’s trouble. 

“I’m gonna have to pay you extra for tonight,” Marvin says as he nips at Whizzer’s earlobe. 

And all of a sudden, Whizzer realizes he can’t do this anymore.

Not when his stomach is flipping and Marvin’s still treating him like a _thing_ to be bought.

He pulls back. “I’ve gotta go.” 

“What?” 

“Sorry,” Whizzer says, fumbling as he tries to take a step back and move away from Marvin. 

“Really? We didn’t even -” 

“I know, sorry. Next time.” Whizzer blabbers a bit about _later_ and _the hotel_ , and he’s really not putting any thought into his words - he’s just trying to get out. Away from Marvin.

Away from the man he has somehow, unexpectedly, fallen in love with.

He doesn’t even kiss Marvin as he shrugs on his jacket and heads out the side door - he’s too busy trying not to make eye contact with him, instead letting his gaze wander over that avocado-green fridge and that napkin holder and that goddamn table, perfect for three. All the evidence of Marvin’s perfect fucking family, and the second he steps out that door, there will be no evidence of him. No evidence that he’s been in Marvin’s life at all.

Damn it. 

“I’ll call you!” Marvin says as Whizzer takes the three steps down onto the walkway along the side of the house.

He tugs his leather jacket a little tighter against his chest and hopes, desperately, that Marvin is lying.

***

He learns, the next day, that Marvin was not.

“Why’d you bail on me like that?” Marvin doesn’t even say hello when Whizzer picks up the phone - just launches straight into his question. It’s bold and ballsy, qualities that attracted Whizzer to him in the first place. 

“Marvin?” 

“You know it’s me, stop that,” Marvin says, and Whizzer can actually hear his eye roll through the line. “What happened last night?” 

They are so not having this conversation - not ever, honestly, but especially not over the phone. “Nothing. I wasn’t feeling well.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Marvin says. 

Whizzer sighs. “Look. I don’t think we should do this anymore.” 

For a moment, Marvin is quiet. 

“Was it my kid?” he asks eventually. 

“No, Jason was cute,” Whizzer says quickly, not wanting the blame to fall on the boy.

“Because if that was way too much for you, that’s totally on me. I’m sorry. We’ll stick to the hotel only from now on, I swear. And I’ll pay you more - you know I’m good for it.” 

Whizzer’s chest aches. “There. _That._ That’s why we’re not doing this anymore.” 

“What?”

Fuck, he’s said too much. He feels his cheeks get hot and god, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with this conversation, with this man that makes him feel too many things, ever again. “Never mind.” 

“No, wait -”

“Goodbye, Marvin.”

“Whizzer -” 

He hangs up the phone.

Whizzer doesn’t feel good about his choices. He knows he’s fucked up a lot in his life, and that he’s done so even more lately. But that kid’s puppy dog eyes, and that kitchen, and that man that makes him wish he could be a part of it… none of that is good for him. He’s not helping himself, and he’s certainly not helping Marvin by coming back again and again and letting him pay for some quick fucks. Somebody’s got to put an end to it, for all their sakes. 

Even if it hurts.

***

Whizzer spends three whole days decidedly _not_ thinking about Marvin. And it goes well, he thinks. The man barely even crosses his mind. It’s not like he wakes up and wishes he could see that mop of brown hair against his pillow. It’s not like he wonders how Marvin takes his coffee when he pours his own cup, or thinks about what kind of groceries he’d buy if he knew what Marvin likes to eat for dinner. It is three days of an easy, Marvin-less existence, and Whizzer hates every second of it.

Which is why his heart damn near leaps out of his chest when he comes home at the end of the third day and finds Marvin sitting on his building’s stoop, smoking a cigarette. 

“What are you doing here?” Whizzer asks, stopping in front of him. Marvin’s eyes tilt up to see him, and they light up in a way Whizzer doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Damn this adorable, stupid, very average man.

“Can I come in?” Marvin asks.

“Not with that thing, you can’t.” 

Marvin tosses his cigarette on the ground and stubs at it with his toe. “Now?” 

“If you insist.” Whizzer tries to keep his voice light, as if he hasn’t spent the past three days attempting to beat every thought of Marvin out of his brain with a mental sledgehammer. He has to save face somehow, after all.

Marvin follows him up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, their footsteps echoing on the tile floors. Whizzer feels his heartbeat thud in time with every step, and by the time they’re inside and he’s locking the door behind him, he feels electricity sparking in his veins. 

“ _Now_ will you tell me what you’re -”

And then Marvin cuts him off with a kiss. 

It’s warm and it’s familiar, and Whizzer wants so badly to just sink into it. To wrap a hand around Marvin’s neck and maybe push him up against the wall, knock a few books off their shelves. It feels like it’s been ages and he _misses_ him, every inch of his skin and the way their bodies press together. 

But he can’t. Because Whizzer knows that the second they both come and Marvin offers him money again, that electricity inside him will short circuit. He can’t handle any more exposed, damaged wires. 

“Stop it,” Whizzer says, wrenching his mouth away from Marvin’s. “Stop. I can’t.” 

“You are impossible,” Marvin says, a little out of breath. He fumbles in his pocket and Whizzer rolls his eyes.

“If you’re pulling out a condom I’m going to send you home right now.”

“It’s not a condom! All right? Fuck.” Marvin shoves his wallet into Whizzer’s hand. “Open it, all right? There’s no cash. You can check.” 

Whizzer feels the bottom of his stomach drop out as he stares at the faded, beat-up leather in his hands. “What?” 

“ _Check_ ,” Marvin insists.

So Whizzer does. He opens up the wallet and thumbs through the pockets. Sure enough, empty. Not even a dime. His mouth is dry and he feels a lump forming in his throat that he has to imagine will be impossible to talk around. Marvin didn’t bring any money. Marvin didn’t come here to pay him for a quick fuck. Marvin came here… to get it for free? 

“It’s very dangerous not to carry cash,” Whizzer says finally. His voice is hoarse. “What if you needed to take a cab? You could be stranded.” 

Marvin smiles gently at him. “You’re infuriating.” 

“Did you…” Whizzer isn’t sure how to ask what he’s dying to ask. “Did you leave your cash at home because you think I’ll give it up for free?” 

“I left my cash at home,” Marvin says, taking a step forward to rest his hands on Whizzer’s hips, “because I realized I was an asshole. And I realized that you’re not some cheap hooker I can pay off and leave behind.” 

When Marvin leans in to kiss him this time, Whizzer lets him.

“I want to keep doing this,” Marvin whispers against his lips, his fingers finding their way along the waistband of Whizzer’s pants. “But I want to keep doing this without the money. I want to keep doing it because you’re gorgeous, and you make me laugh, and I can’t stop wanting to see you.” 

Whizzer feels himself melt a little, leaning into Marvin’s touch. “So, what, you want me to be your sidepiece?” 

“I was thinking more like ‘boyfriend’, if that word is all right with you.”

“Is that word all right with your wife?” 

Marvin’s teeth drag along Whizzer’s jaw. “Do you care?” 

A groan. “Not particularly, no.” 

“Good.” Lips fixed on the place where neck meets shoulder.

“But if you get to have a wife, I get to keep going out.” 

“One man isn’t enough for you?” 

Whizzer squeezes Marvin’s ass, hard. “Fair’s fair.” 

He can practically hear Marvin rolling his eyes. “You’re impossible.” 

“And now you don’t have to pay to put up with me.” 

Whizzer doesn’t know how this will all play out. He doesn’t know how long they’ll keep doing this, meeting up in secret and falling into bed together. He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to keep it a secret from Marvin’s wife forever or if one of them will eventually crack. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’ll both _want_ to keep doing this forever.

But for now, he wakes up to mussed brown hair on the pillow and black coffee, and there’s never any cash on the nightstand. And for now, for Whizzer, that’s good enough.

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, cookiegirl! Your "Whizzer tries to use Marvin as a sugar daddy and then catches feelings" prompt jumped out at me the moment I read your letter, and it wouldn't get out of my head. And then this happened. (I couldn't resist sprinkling in a bit of your sick!Jason prompt too!) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing for you!


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